68. Felicity
FELICITY
Icould still feel his kiss twenty minutes later.
Actually—
everywhere.
My lips tingled.
My heart wouldn’t slow down.
And every single time Hersh looked at me across the kitchen table, heat rushed straight through me all over again.
Which would’ve been less embarrassing if Wolf and Trigger weren’t sitting there witnessing all of it.
Wolf leaned back in the chair with a smirk. “You two done pretending yet?”
Trigger nearly choked on his coffee.
I stared down into my mug immediately.
Hersh looked completely unbothered.
Which felt unfair.
Very unfair.
“What exactly are we pretending about?” he asked calmly.
Wolf barked out a laugh.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact you look one bad day away from murdering somebody if they breathe near Felicity.”
Trigger pointed toward Hersh. “That part’s definitely true.”
Heat flooded my face harder.
Hersh took a slow sip of coffee without taking his eyes off me.
“Breathing rules depend on the person.”
Wolf slapped the table laughing.
“Hell yes.”
“Oh my God,” I muttered.
But secretly?
A dangerous little flutter moved through my chest hearing him say things like that.
Because Hersh didn’t flirt casually.
Every word from him felt real.
Intentional.
Like when he looked at me, there wasn’t room in his head for anybody else.
The kitchen door suddenly opened.
The Sheriff walked in carrying a soaked file folder beneath one arm.
Everybody’s expressions shifted immediately back to serious.
He nodded once toward me.
“Shouldn't you be lying down?”
I tried smiling.
“I look that bad, huh?”
“I saw the ranch, I know what happened, and you have blood all over your clothes.”
Fair point.
He dropped the folder onto the table.
“We got ID on two of the Hollow Men killed in the woods.”
Hersh’s posture changed instantly beside me.
Focused.
Deadly.
“What’d you find?”
The sheriff opened the folder carefully.
“Both men have military backgrounds.” He glanced toward Hersh. “Special operations.”
Not surprising.
Still horrifying.
Wolf muttered a curse.
Trigger leaned forward. “Active?”
“No.” His expression darkened. “Officially dead.”
The room went quiet.
Cold slid slowly down my spine.
“What does that mean?” I whispered.
Hersh answered before the sheriff could.
“It means Shepherd’s been recruiting ghosts.”
He nodded grimly.
“These men died years ago on paper.”
I looked between all of them.
“You’re saying there are more?”
Nobody answered immediately.
Which was answer enough.
Thunder rumbled softly outside again.
The storm still hadn’t fully passed.
Neither had the feeling crawling beneath my skin since seeing that photograph.
Like eyes still watched this ranch from somewhere beyond the dark.
Hersh noticed me shiver instantly.
His hand slid quietly over my knee beneath the table.
Grounding me.
Protecting me without making a scene about it.
The simple touch settled something inside me immediately.
The sheriff noticed too.
Actually—
everyone noticed.
Wolf smirked into his coffee.
Trigger looked suspiciously entertained.
Hersh ignored them all.
The sheriff cleared his throat awkwardly and returned to the file.
“There’s something else.”
Nobody liked the sound of that.
“The dead Hollow Men weren’t just former military.”
He pulled out another photograph.
Then slid it across the table toward me.
The second I saw the image?—
my stomach dropped.
Because standing beside Shepherd in the photograph?—
Was unmistakable—my father.